


Out of the Closet

by EntreNous



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-07
Updated: 2005-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It had been fun, being sly and sneaky, looking over their shoulders to make sure no one saw the two of them when they ducked inside. The act of reaching up to turn out a dusty bare light bulb had a whole extra level of fun attached when it meant that he was about to have Cordy, all soft and perfumed, pressed up against him and sucking on his tongue until he couldn’t think straight, never mind stand straight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a [smut_69](http://smut-69.livejournal.com/) challenge.

Xander was sure that the closet and Cordelia would be mixed up together in his head forever. Both had been jumbled together for the past few weeks, that was for sure.

When the two of them locking lips in the utility room had started being more planned than accidental, he had developed an unexpected fondness for the scents of ammonia and wood glue, and the clatter of brooms and mops being knocked to the floor. Those smells and sounds were very much a part of the scene of getting to have an armful of Cordelia Chase, head cheerleader, queen of whatever dance the school was having that month, and reluctant part-time addition to the Slayerette team.

Secret kissing -- now that had been pretty cool. But hey, now there was public kissing, and locket wearing, and it pretty much added up to her being his girlfriend. They ate lunch together now instead of pretending to avoid each other, they sat next to each other in Scooby meetings without Buffy and Willow gawking at them (much) and there were bunches of totally above board kissing and groping sessions: in Cordy’s car, in Cordy’s family’s rec-room, and in the bleachers rooting for whatever school team had a game (whenever Cordy wasn’t actually turning cartwheels on the field).

No question, they were officially out of the closet. Cordy repeated those words over and over, even after Willow had corrected her, saying that the only people who got to say that were through trying to hide that they were gay, lesbian, or transgendered.

Xander had to bite his tongue, because even though he really wanted to ask, he was also sure he wasn’t ready to _hear_ what “transgendered” meant. And he suspected that Willow wouldn’t have been so grumpy about the phrase if it hadn’t signaled that he and Cordy were going to keep up the public kissing thing.

So it was good, being out of the closet. Still. The closet. It had been fun, being sly and sneaky, looking over their shoulders to make sure no one saw the two of them when they ducked inside. The act of reaching up to turn out a dusty bare light bulb had a whole extra level of fun attached when it meant that he was about to have Cordy, all soft and perfumed, pressed up against him and sucking on his tongue until he couldn’t think straight, never mind stand straight.

So he missed the closet sessions.

“Wait. You’re feeling nostalgic for secret relationships in dank dark spaces?” Buffy asked him one night during patrol when he told her about it.

“Crazy, huh?” he asked.

She paused, and a troubled look passed over her face. For a moment he got the first image of her and Angel together, kissing in the cemetery against some crypt or headstone, that didn’t make him feel at all jealous.

“No, I get that,” she replied glumly, just before she staked three vamps with added oomph.

* * *

“We’ll go to Jeannie’s on Friday night,” Cordy said during lunch on Wednesday.

They were on their own that day because Willow and Oz had some extra special smartypants computer class taught by a professor from UC Sunnydale, and Buffy was off somewhere training with Giles.

“So okay, it’s not total A-list,” Cordy explained with a sigh. “We’ll work back up to that. But Jeannie’s parents have a Jacuzzi and a vacation planned for this weekend, and an after-game party is an after-game party.” She took a bite of her special doctor-approved fad diet lunch and made a face. “Then on Saturday we can catch that movie you were talking about.”

“Movie,” Xander agreed, staring at the dip in Cordy’s v-neck sweater.

“And after?” Cordy grinned, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand. “We can take my daddy’s car, and go make out anywhere you want.”

“In the closet,” Xander said without thinking.

She wrinkled her pretty nose at him. “The Closet? Don’t tell me. It’s one of those faux rave things the Goth kids are trying to start up at the warehouses. No way am I going to one of those parties. Sure, it sounds all cool and subversive, but really it’s a bunch of dorks wearing lots of make-up to hide their less than perfect complexions.”

Xander didn’t bother explaining, just took her hand and pulled her away from the table.

“Hey! What? Xander?” she protested even as she let him lead her out of the cafeteria and down the hall. “We just left my lunch, and -- you don’t really want to _go_ to that dumb Goth party, do you?”

The halls were nearly empty, and they were the only ones in the west corridor when Xander steered her in that direction.

“What’s going on -- oh!” she said when they stopped in front of the utility closet.

“It’s just . . .” he started. “You, me, going out. It’s a good thing, going out. But now and then, as life marches on, people get to thinking about old times and familiar surroundings and . . . well . . .”

She stood with her arms crossed, raising both eyebrows when he trailed off. “Xander Harris, you’re just trying to get me into that closet and make out with you in the middle of fifth period.”

“Yes,” he said firmly, bobbing his head to emphasize the point.

“Okay,” she quickly agreed. This time it was Cordy pulling him along by the arm as they got the door open and stumbled inside.

“Do you think anyone saw us?” he asked.

“Hey, that’s my line,” she protested as she twined her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for the first kiss.

“No,” he gasped as they came up for air. “Your line was something about turning the light off --”

“Oooh, the light was off most times, wasn’t it?” she asked as she reached up and pulled the ratty string attached to the fluorescent bulb.

“That was usually the first step in the truly hot and heavy make-out sessions,” he said in a low voice as he backed her up against the wall. “Whoops,” he added as she stepped blindly into a bucket.

She stopped to glare at him before kicking it off. “Less talking, more kissing,” she said before yanking him forward.

And there, there was that moment he remembered. The sensation of her lips, sliding and seeking against his, her breasts pressed against and warming his chest, the two of them matched torso to pelvis thanks to the added height of her clicky-clacky shoes.

“Oh, yes,” he mumbled as she threaded her fingers in his hair and did that truly wonderful thing to his ear with her tongue. He had one hand at her hip, and soon slipped the other under her v-neck. When his fingers touched her bra and he realized that it had a front-closure, he moaned gratefully.

After that he got the clasp open, and went through that customary mind-full-of-static moment he got when he got a handful of her warm, heavy breast and could only think in vowels. When he started to brush his thumb over her nipple, she sighed into the kiss and wriggled against him until he dipped his head to kiss her neck at the same time.

“This is . . .” he murmured against her collarbone, “definitely . . . nostalgia and dark spaces . . . good, good things.”

“It’s better when you don’t try to talk,” she complained in a whisper even as she pushed herself more into his touch. But when he opened his mouth to retort she smiled winningly, flashing pearly whites he could see shining even with just the dim light from the hallway peeking under the door. And that megawatt smile alone would have been enough to disarm him without the very new and extremely exciting development of her taking his free hand from her hip and drawing it under her skirt.

“Ergle,” he said intelligently as his eyes went wide and Cordy guided his trembling fingers to meet the silky skin of her thighs and then the damp cotton of her panties.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to stop me or something,” he managed to say. Even so, he couldn’t stop from starting to stroke his fingers back and forth, exploring.

“I’m the one that started you,” she explained, tightening her hands on his shoulders when apparently he hit a good spot. “Kiss me again,” she added, and Xander nodded dumbly even as he complied.

So now it was a whole three-ring circus of thrills: lips, breasts, and the brand new softness that got easier to trace through the fabric as the cotton became damper. When he eased his fingers just underneath the elastic, she breathed in sharply, shivering against him. Panty-level contact had been mind blowing enough, but rubbing the tips of his fingers over her, up close and personal with the moist hotness that got wetter with every touch, brought the experience to a whole new plane of sense-surround. He wanted to fold to his knees, duck his head under her skirt so he could taste and smell too. But her breathing hitched, coming faster and harder, so he concentrated on what he was doing.

“Don’t stop,” she said breathlessly. Then she cleared her throat and said with some irritation, “Okay, um . . . not there but . . . almost, just closer to . . . okay, yes, there, there!”

When he slipped a finger inside of her, she gasped. But when he began moving two fingers in and out, she moaned aloud, covering his hand with hers to squeeze her breast harder. Another kiss and more of the same in and out action and she started working her hips so that she was rubbing against the ball of his palm, until he could feel her quivering inside and out.

The first high-pitched cry surprised him, but he moved quickly to swallow the next with a kiss. Yet even very enthusiastic lips and tongue couldn’t muffle the third cry that came from her mouth, sounding half like his name and half like the end of a really peppy cheer.

Luckily at that moment the bell rang to signal the end of fifth period and her final moan was drowned out by the sound of classroom doors swinging open, students chattering, and lockers banging shut.

“Guess we should,” he said awkwardly as he stepped back. Shadows moved along the light from the hall as students rushed to their next classes.

“Right,” she said, smoothing her skirt and tucking her top back in.

“So Friday night,” he said, leaning against the door while they waited for the hallways to clear. With any luck his boner would disappear before he had to run to Chemistry. “Jeannie’s party.”

“Oh, right,” she said in a daze. “Jeannie’s . . . yeah, with the . . . no, wait. Xander, I don’t think I want to go to Jeannie’s with you this weekend.”

“You don’t?” he asked. “Um . . . okay.” He frowned and put his hands on his hips. “See, and I thought that just went pretty well--”

She grinned widely at him. “No, not that. It’s just . . . I think we should skip the party and the movie, and go straight to the making out in the car plan.”

He blinked. “You sure?”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a smile, catching his hand and kissing it before she opened the door and waltzed out of the closet. “I’m sure.”


End file.
